Ice Still

a poem by Ash sarge, USA

It's a little early,
It's a little late,
Ice blue and white,
Makes for cold dreams,
The kind for prophecy.

What happens to what you know,
When you awake...

Frost outlines the shadows,
It's water's time to take form,
Still like sandcastles by the ocean,
The images will be washed away,
By the sun.

But, winter has just begun.

I dare to walk on the water,
I stand un the middle of the lake,
Feeling a little immortal,
Wondering when, it will crack and break.
I left my pain, on the shore,
Am I any lighter.
Ice blue and white
This vision is seen at night,
What statues of mine,
Will shatter
When I awake,
From this icicle seam.

There are no Angels here,
No golden harps,
This is a place of no time...
None to kill,
None to steal,
None to waste...
No beginning,
No end,
Just too early...
And too late.

W.B.B.

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